


Windows of Opportunities

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkwardness, Fraternities & Sororities, Humor, M/M, Multi, Parties, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This will be the day that he dies.<br/>Everyone always told him that he’d die because of something stupid, and sure a little part of him believed them but Wash never quite thought this would be the way he bit the bullet. No, he thought maybe he’d die because he jumped off the roof at one of his fraternity’s parties with his helmet on and either drowned in it or missed the pool."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows of Opportunities

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt:  
> [Tuna sandwich AU where wash is running from something and he sees yorks black toyota, he makes a break for the car and jumps in the back seat shouting "GO, GO"and looking back over his seat to see his purchasers. The driver drives right away and his purchasers quickly give up the chase. Wash sighs in relief and turns around immidietly noticing a) a dude with black dreads, not york, is driving b)there is two other guys in the car apart from the guy with the dreads c) they're all staring at him]

This will be the day that he dies. Everyone always told him that he’d die because of something stupid, and sure a little part of him believed them but Wash never quite thought this would be the way he bit the bullet. No, he thought maybe he’d die because he jumped off the roof at one of his fraternity’s parties with his helmet on and either drowned in it or missed the pool.

No; instead it’ll be because he wasn’t paying attention and bumped into a gal who ended up spilling her drink down the front of her shirt and in the middle of his flailing and apologies he might have froze wide eyed at the fact that his hand knocked against her breasts. It was safe to say that her boyfriend and his friends didn’t take well to that fact (that and Washington’s friend was _howling_ with laughter beside him. He was going to kill Tucker)—the girl had called after the group of guys as they went tearing after the blond and his _friend_ (he’s using the term lightly now) after said friend loudly suggested (read: demanded) for them to start running.

He didn’t even _like_ girls!

With his skateboard and notebook gripped tightly in one arm David Washington _ran_. He away from the library, the Quad, and down the steep hill towards the main building on campus where he had agreed to meet his friend (and fellow fraternity brother) York, and more than likely they’d be joined by York’s girlfriend Carolina (who was from their sister house), and their buddy North (also frat brother). If Washington could get to the parking lot he _might_ not die today.

But these guys were fast and Wash didn’t want to risk the second to drop his board and skate to the parking lot—no, he’d stick with running.

Washington nearly cried when he saw the black Toyota Camry—oh that beautiful old, piece of shit tin can had never looked so beautiful in all of Wash’s twenty years of life! And the back window was rolled down and everything; Wash nearly jumped for a brief moment of joy (if not for the fact that the footfalls were getting louder behind him and Wash was going to have to lay on apologies as soon as he got into the car for what he was about to do).

He threw his book and board through the open window before diving (read: falling) through the open window and yelling, “DRIVE!” One of his feet still sticking out the window as he slowly sunk into the space between the front seats and the back, his elbow touching something (he’d rather not know) on the floor of the car. He was stuck but he was _safe._

He nearly sobbed as the car spurred to life, tires squealing as the driver peeled out of the parking lot.

“So,” an unfamiliar voice _purred_ (honest to everything holy purred) causing Wash’s attention to snap towards the man sitting in the back seat with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and his arm using Wash’s leg as an arm rest.

 _You’re not York_ —“You’re not York.” He didn’t mean to say that out loud.

 Cigarette Dude took a drag at the fag between his lips and pulled the stick away to blow smoke out the open window (that Wash had just leapt through). “What did you do to get ‘roids, hulk and chicken legs on your ass, huh? Say that their dick was tiny? Mack on their girl?”

Wash shook his head, neck heating up—he tried to push his way out of the crevice and… nope, still stuck. Cigarette Dude nodded to the person sitting in the front passenger seat, “hey Nero pull your seat up, blondie here needs to un-stick himself.” Wash’s blush crept higher when the man in the front seat did as he was told and Wash was slowly able to pull himself up off the floor and onto the seat.

The front seat clicked back into place as the man settled back—he turned to glance at their visitor as well. Wash caught green eyes glancing back at him in the rearview mirror and his blush finally flared up in his cheeks—a deep crimson—and he couldn’t help but run a hand through his wheat blond hair. “I spilled a drink on someone’s girlfriend and… well, shit happened and… well, stupid shit happens to me a lot.”

The driver huffed and the man Cigarette Dude called Nero nodded “gotta agree with Locus, he’s cute.”

Cigarette Dude pulled one last drag from his bud and tossed it out the window. “Okay, so we’ve agreed on this right?” Whatever silent answer the man got was enough to split his face into a large grin. “So blondie, wanna fuck?”

Wash sputtered, mouth closing and opening as his brain staled— _he didn’t even know these guys!_ “Whut?!” his voice cracked and he could almost swear that the man sitting in the backseat with him was going to crack his own face with how wide his smile was.

“He’s adorable!” The guy exclaimed leaning in towards Wash and Wash leaned away from him in return.

Nero sighed reaching back as pushing the other man away from Washington, “where are you headed?” And this was a question that Wash could work with—flirting and conversations of sex made him flustered (and don’t even get him started when those things mixed with the fact that he found the guys who were holding those conversations with him. Hint: it looks like what was happening right now but may have some more alcohol involved).

“The Freelancer Frat House,” okay so that wasn’t the actual name but it was what _everyone_ called it. People hardly even knew the real name of the Fraternity or their Sister house—Freelancer was used by both the Sorority and the Frat after all.

The car grew silent as the driver (Locus) drove Wash home after an awkward and _horrible_ meeting. Wow, Wash really didn’t want to run into these guys again (even though he thought they were all good looking and that was the problem). Like, ever. Not even in his dreams.

“So, Frat-boy got a name or can I just continue to come up with a bunch of fandom names for you until something sticks?” Cigarette Dude sighed, relaxing back in his seat.

“Wash—short for Washington,” he replied finger spinning the wheel of his board as he spared glances out the window.

Cigarette Dude pointed to himself when Wash glanced back over his way, “I’m Felix,” and then he proceeded to name the other two in the front. Which Washington already came to the conclusion on. The car slowed to a stop and Wash threw a quick _thanks_ and a flustered grin before stumbling out of the car with his things and rushed to the large man sitting on the stairs nursing a Red Bull.

“So,” Felix leaned over the center console, bright hazel eyes watching the freckled blond push through the front door of the house. “I’m going to fuck him.”

“Get in line,” Locus clipped back his attention finally breaking away when the door finally clicked closed.

“I’ve always liked blonds,” Nero mumbled tossing a glance towards the other two men in the car—neither of which were blond. “Freelancer is having a party this weekend; it’s a frat party but…”

The answering grins he got in return were enough of an answer. They were going to that party.

\--

Freelancer was known for a few things; sure, most of these things were the classic frat logic but there was one thing that both sides of Freelancer shared.

The Helmets.

The helmets were their _thing_ ; some houses had animals or a giant golden dildo (we don’t talk about that Sorority). Freelancer had their helmets, and with the helmets came the rule:

**IF THOU WEARS THY HELMET THOU SHALT LOSE THY SHIRT**

And Wash was rather happy with that. He did better with the helmet on in the ways of flirting and having people flirt on him—they liked his chest, he was _known_ as the guy with the nice freckled chest. People _liked_ the freckles and his chest. So sure, sometimes Wash would have to escape girls who would run their hands down the exposed flesh but that was easily solved if he was near South or Connie who enjoyed the attention of the ladies (and in Connie’s case she also enjoyed the attention she’d get from guys too).

So Washington would get drunk and people would feel him up, and sometimes he’d wake up in his bed with some guy and Wash couldn’t be happier. It was a good night of partying and drinking and _sex_.

So when the party came around and Wash was in his helmet and trying to look anywhere else but where Wyoming and Florida were with their body paint and their lack of clothing and just—no, Wash was happy that they were happy in la-la happy couple land but their kinky shit sometimes just made him shutter.

He left the house and made his way to the backyard to take up the seat next to Maine—also taking the helmet route, he and Wash were the ones that _always_ took the helmet route (Wash thinks it’s so he can glare and judge everyone while creeping them out). He sat out there beside the man in silence for a long while—long enough for the party to kick in and the guests to trickle out to the backyard with the pool and the music to up in volume.

“I’ll see you later buddy!” Wash patted the man’s shoulder and the man in return brought their helmet clad heads together. It was their thing—Wash grinned behind his helmet and patted the man’s helmet before taking off towards the main stash of booze to start his evening of drinking.

\--

They found Washington when he went crashing into Locus’ chest. At first they had just assumed that this was just a random shirtless dude with body paint smeared all over his back, arms and chest with a halo looking helmet on. But in the moment after connecting with the tall black man Helmet Guy had seemed to perk up and the helmet was quickly pulled up until it perched at an angle on top of wheat blond locks.

“Hey!” Wash grinned; his freckled face taking a nice flush to it showing just how much he’s already drank.

Nero leaned in, beating both Locus and Felix to the prize by quickly sealing their lips together and kissing him deeply—tongue, teeth and all. When he finally pulled away the blond’s gray-blue eyes fluttered open and his face seemed to flush all the darker, “we were looking for you!” Felix called over the music before taking the blond’s tongue into his mouth—it took some coaxing—and sucking on the appendage.

Wash pulled away and eyed Locus, his hands clinging to the man’s shirt—mouth opening before falling shut then his eyes squinted. “Are you going to kiss me too?” he asked, the booze spurring him on into more daring waters.

“I want to do more than just kiss you,” a smile crossed Washington’s lips and Locus leaned forward, “though I should start with a kiss.”

And that he did.


End file.
